


Yearning is one hell of a drug

by Himborgan



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, SO, That's it, Trans Character, Trans Jonathan Sims, Trans Martin Blackwood, martin is yearning, neither of these are explicit but, that's the fic, they're both trans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:48:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22379719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Himborgan/pseuds/Himborgan
Summary: Does this count as a character study? Who knowsMartin has feelings
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Kudos: 37





	Yearning is one hell of a drug

Martin Blackwood, was an idiot. 

No. No, that wasn’t quite right. Even with his own fragile self esteem, he knew that he was, to some degree, a smart man. As smart as the average person, he’d say. He had his strengths. He had his weaknesses. He wasn’t stupid. And he’d tell anyone as such, if they called him that to his face. 

...What had the original point been? 

Oh. Right. Martin was an idiot. 

This wasn’t exactly a new development. But, hey. He had put it on the backburner, while work got a little busier. Reading statements for Jon. Doing research for Jon. Making tea for Jon.  
...God. This was his exact problem. Maybe if he hadn’t been spending every waking moment thinking about the pompous prick, (to quote Tim), then he wouldn’t be in that predicament in the first place.  
That predicament being, alone at his desk, at 8pm, tea long gone cold, heart doing damn somersaults in his chest while he desperately tried to stop himself from daydreaming. 

Daydreaming could be harmless, of course. People did it plenty. Imagining future holidays. Thinking about whatever they were going to have for dinner when they got home. Mentally budgeting for the month. All of that was fine. What wasn’t fine, for Martin at least, was thinking about his boss. At least not to the point where it interfered with his work. And, considering he hadn’t filed a single statement, or even opened his laptop in the last two hours? It was very much doing just that. 

He tried to reason that it wasn’t his fault, for a while. That Jon knew damn well what he was doing. Coming into work with his tie loose around his neck. Hand brushing against Martin’s shoulder as he leaned over him to check his work. The occasional staring from his office. But, if he thought about it rationally? Jon had the social skills of a soggy slice of bread. He had no idea he was doing these things, let alone what the lingering touches and eye contact was doing to Martin’s heart. So, no. Martin was desperately in love with Jon, and it was his own damn fault. So, he figured that he was at least a little justified in wallowing in his own self pity. It was fine, anyway. He was alone at the Institute, and his door was locked, and-

“Martin?”

Shit.

There were two very important things to remember, if one’s life more or less revolves around one Jonathan Sims  
A) He does not go home  
B) When he does, it’s never when it’s most convenient. 

To his credit, Jon did have the decency to look at least a little apologetic for barging into Martin’s office. And Martin supposed he couldn’t exactly blame him for being slightly jumpy. It wasn’t like he had told anyone about his plans to stay late and… Do whatever it was he was doing. Jon was perfectly justified in being a little panicked upon hearing the sounds of another human being when he was convinced that he was alone. Still, that didn’t stop Martin’s ears burning, snapping his head up from where it had been resting on the desk fast enough to give himself head rush, brain barely comprehending the next question. 

“Are you alrigh- What are you doing?” 

C) He’s definitely a mind reader

“I’m fine! Just fine. Working. You know how it is. Work.” 

Rambling. Martin was rambling. That was the sure fire way of getting Jon out of his office. He loathed rambling, Martin had found. Or, at least, he appeared to. Always told him to get to the point, or to leave his office until he had collected his thoughts. Of course, Martin always took offense to this, deep down, knowing damn well that collecting his thoughts wasn’t going to happen with Jon around, but this time? It was a blessing. He only just managed to stop himself from breathing a sigh of relief as the expected slow nod came in response, along with a quiet “right…” before the door closed, and Martin was alone once more, pondering his own romantic incompetence. 

God dammit. 

Martin Blackwood really was a fucking idiot.


End file.
